


Pounded in the butt by the hairy vore werewolf's monster dong

by Molly Bod (Strudelmugel)



Series: Monstertalia [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Enemies to Lovers, Erotica, Gratuitous Smut, I'm Sorry, Innuendo, Interspecies Relationship(s), Kinks, Knotting, Light BDSM, M/M, S&M, Shameless Smut, Werewolves, Why Did I Write This?, Why are my friends terrible enablers?, but on the other if this becomes my most popular fic i'm quitting the internet, immature jokes, one the one hand i like comments on kudos, werewolves are zea's kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Molly%20Bod
Summary: By day, Hunapo Davies was a simple writer. By night... he was still a simple writer just in pyjamas, staying up too late again. His fans only know him as Richard Hunter though, an author of steamy werewolf-themed erotica. Though he knows werewolves are just a myth, he would love to have a supernatural relationship just like the ones he writes and fantasises about. Shame all he has is frenemy Logan Cooper...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my friends. Welcome to the beginning of my sexy, sensual au. Although this fic centres around Australia and New Zealand, there are many other couples in this au, some of which will be mentioned in this, most of which will have their own fics later on, if you all like this au.  
> Disclaimer: all use of the word 'orbs' are completely ironic. And moronic.
> 
> ... 
> 
> Hunapo - New Zealand  
> Alin - Romania

Hunapo loved the smell of a new book.

There was just something about it: the anticipation of of ripping into a new book and reading the new book and going on an adventure with the cast of the new book and forgetting about the world for a few hours because he was busy reading his new book, oh it was _thrilling_. Paper and wood, new new new. There was something fresh and pure about that new book smell, nicely juxtaposed with the shamelessly filthy smut that usually made up the contents of his favourite reads, though he had also read every Lord of the Rings book so that was something. It was nice having a book he could say he read that didn't contain poorly photoshopped pecs and abs on the cover. You couldn’t get that new book smell on a fancy kindle, or on a phone or computer or whatever device you are using right now. It just does not compare, face it. Call Hunapo pretentious, but he just loved _real_ books. When it came to Hobbit fanfiction though, he could bear a phone screen for a taste of fantasy smut.

His favourite new book smell, of course, came from the fresh copies of his own newly published works. Books he had slaved over tirelessly and slightly hornily except for when he didn’t know what words to use or if his grammar was correct so then he was just frustrated. But not sexually frustrated just regular frustrated. Not a good kind of frustrated at all. It was a less sticky kind though, to regular frustration's credit.

Yes, a lot of hard work went into all his books, and his latest - _Alpha Outcast Desire_ \- was no exception. In fact, he always had to put in more work with each new book to make sure it topped his previous masterpiece - in this case _Marking the Omega Sub_ \- in terms of blowing his readers’ minds and prostates. An easy task by now for such an experienced writer, surely? His books may never become classics but he had made possibly thousands of gay men - and probably women too - touch themselves without ever meeting them and that was pretty cool too.

Unsurprisingly, he lived alone. As a single man, he often lost himself in his fantasies of being dominated - and in return dominating - by a hairy, muscled, werewolf lover, lying in his bed, the sofa, the bath, even the cubicles of public toilets if he was feeling particularly bored, just jerking it. Between that and writing, it was a wonder he hadn’t developed carpel tunnel, even if he tended to use a different arm for each. 

He just loved werewolves so _much_. As a kid, he thought they were really cool and wanted to be one; as a teen, every piece of art he uploaded to furaffinity was of his werewolf sona, along with every piece of art he commissioned; and now as an adult he got to write about them all day. Except on days when he had writer’s block. Those days were for teen wolf marathons or leaving his flat to look for inspiration. Or to go drinking. 

Speaking of which, even though the first chapter of his latest masterpiece - _Trying Vore for my Werewolf Lover_ \- was well underway and he would not be leaving his office all day, Hunapo did like the idea of going outside with his friends for once, maybe even for a night of drinking if they were down. The two of them had also published books recently and they hadn't had a chance to celebrate yet. Tino's latest work was  _Pillaged by the Pagan_ , and Alin's was _Taming the Transylvanian Terror_. Both excellent reads, Hunapo would be the first to say.

He sent them a quick message in their group chat, before going back to his lengthy description of his main protagonist: Brett Michaels, rugged Kiwi rugby player and bottom to the charming werewolf alpha he would be introducing in possibly chapter five. Who knew at this stage? Right now though, Hunapo was having fun describing his big, meaty thighs and crooked nose, knowing he would have even more fun describing the werewolf.

He didn’t even know why it was werewolves of all things that turned him on like a coffee machine, but knew he wasn’t alone. Hell, his two best friends, even if they weren’t all interested in werewolves, still understood the allure of niche erotica. Alin had a particular kink for vampires - then again, he had a kink for pretty much everything; it was rather disturbing at times - and apparently as a kid tried to convince everyone he was. Demons and torture were also common in his works. Tino, on the other hand, liked writing Viking fantasy he may or may not act out with his husband, who was coincidentally Swedish. All the love interests he created resembled the man. All of them.

That was how they met: an online site where they published their early erotica, back in college when they were all terrible at writing, and upon reflection at was all really terrible, and discovered they all happened to live in the same city. And were all incredibly weird. 

The three of them had been besties since.

Of course, none of their loved ones - besides Tino’s husband - actually knew of their professions. It just wasn’t something any of them wanted to admit at parties and family reunions, hence why Hunapo was actually known amongst fans of homoerotic werewolf action as ‘Richard Hunter’, Alin was ‘Cezar Succescu’, and Tino was ‘Power Topi ‘fire and death and a grenade up the arse’ Sisu’.

Because, deep down, they were all still edgy thirteen year olds.

Hunapo yawned and stretched, standing up to massage their numb rear; they’d been sat at their desk all day, either writing or stopping to inhale and caress their new copy of _Alpha Outcast Desire_ and now it was time to get something to eat and drink because self care was important. Self care was hydration and taking breaks from writing about knotted werewolf dicks.

They passed their mirror on their journey across the main room of their studio flat, past _Flight of the Conchords_ CDs and tissue boxes and a cricket set and that one creepy sheep his cousin had brought for him that he didn’t have the heart to throw away, even though it stared right into his soul. He glanced at his mop of brown hair, almost covering an admittedly wide head Tino often compared to a rugby ball, emerald orbs shimmering from underneath thick eyebrows. His muscular thighs contrasted quite starkly with his somewhat skinnier arms and torso, being the only part of his body he actually worked out. Hunapo squatted, okay?

There were, of course, his vast collection of moko tattoos, running down his thighs and arms and across his chest, which swelled with patriotic and cultural pride every time he saw them. All his tattoos were visible at the moment, due to the fact that he’d not bothered to put on anything besides a pair of boxers.

Okay, maybe he’d not actually washed any of his clothes in a week; he’d probably need to do that before going out later.

Hunapo made himself a Lemon and Paeroa, which technically didn’t count as drinking before noon because it was summer and the rules were different in summer for some reason, especially during a heatwave. He got himself a glass of water for hydration too though, before putting on a wash to make sure he didn’t violate public decency laws. Voyeurism and flashing people wasn’t his thing - though it was probably Alin’s. He had yet to find something Alin didn’t find arousing, though he’d not asked about scat or golden showers for fear of what the answer would be. 

Finally satisfied that he’d procrastinated on his writing long enough - something he tended to do even when he was on a roll - and now that the pins and needles had disappeared from his butt, Hunapo returned to his computer to continue Brett’s steamy, smutty adventures. 

 

… 

 

So tonight was still on then. Luckily, as Hunapo was already a little tipsy and raring to get out and have some fun. Sure, Tino would probably want to talk more about that little boy he’d just adopted - and strangely suddenly too; Hunapo had to wonder why he and Berwald never mentioned they were planning to adopt a second child - and how he was getting along, and Alin would want to talk about fucking vampires, but they were his best friends and he liked spending time with him. 

He kinda wished they’d cool off on the furry jokes though. He may be a furry, but at least he never had a twilight phase so there was that.

He'd had a Jacob Black poster, but never a full blown phase.

Right now though, Hunapo was wearing his favourite t shirt, one that showed off his other passion: rugby. The words ‘ruck me, maul me, make me scrum’ were emblazoned across it, words he vowed to live by. Complete with skinny jeans and an All Blacks snapback, he decided he was ready to go.

Being late was Tino and Alin’s job, after all, not his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan - Australia
> 
> Lars - Ladonia
> 
> Gunner - Denmark
> 
>  
> 
> …
> 
>  
> 
> Warning for smexytimes~ haha kill me. But seriously, there’s smut and stuff in this chapter and the next. Also everything that comes out of Australia’s mouth is pure filth and I am having way too much fun using stupidly immature synonyms for penis. This chapter also contains mentions of past RoFin, STDs and inappropriate uses for cured meats.
> 
> Also when I write New Zealand, I’m imagining him having the thickest accent possible if anyone feels this fic needs an extra layer of terrible.

 

Quite naturally, both Tino and Alin were late. 

Not that Hunapo minded at all, as it gave him time to look around the seaside pub he’d been coming to for years but would look at like he’d never been there before, for the benefit of the reader.

It was one of those seaside pubs built on a street corner that looked vaguely modelled on an old western saloon bar, with a veranda out front and a balcony on the first floor, where the hotel rooms were. The rooms themselves were usually occupied by drunk or hungover students on their gap year. And creepy businessmen. Possibly beating their meat like it was a prisoner of war over the thought of university students. Hunapo himself was sat in the corner nursing a pint, at one of those tables with two chairs on one side, and a sofa built into the wall on the other. Of course, he quickly claimed the sofa. It was dim in the pub, since the sun was nearly gone now, and outside he could already hear packs of drunk bogans talking loudly as they patrolled the streets looking for things to shout at. Photographs of the beach and famous people that had visited the pub littered the walls, along with the occasional old-fashioned pub sign and tacky ornament. The carpeted floor was sticky, something Hunapo certainly didn’t want to pry further in. The inside walls were wood panelling, presumably to give some sort of authentic feel, though Hunapo wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

There were already a handful of tourists at the bar, and families crowded around tables as their kids ran riot; thankfully most of them would be leaving in the next few hours, the sun already setting. Except the few with shitty parents who just wanted to get drunk and neglect their children for the whole night. Across the road was the beach, still fairly populated in the evening due to the lovely weather, not a heatwave anymore but still wonderfully warm. Maybe later, the three of them could have fun paddling in the sea and spelling out swear words in the sand.

If they ever got here, that is.

Conveniently, Tino chose that moment to finally walk in the door, grinning cheerily as he waved a greeting before making his way to the bar. Wow. Must’ve been a stressful day if he wasn’t even bothering with pleasantries before getting himself a drink. That stepson of his must’ve set fire to something again. Still, it was the weekend now so the little shit would be going back to his dad’s for a few days.

Erm, his other dad’s at least.

It was incredible, really. Some people didn’t have a dad, and there was this ode to swallowing running around with three. Maybe he was still jealous of this new kid Tino and Berwald had adopted. Hunapo would understand that, slightly. He was the youngest of three with two doting older sisters but could vaguely see what it would be like having a younger sibling. Not that he particularly cared for the little shit that had punched him in the stomach and set fire to his laptop. He’d not even seen the kid pull out a match, that was how fast he worked. 

When Tino glanced back, Hunapo held up his pint to indicate he wanted another, turning his attention to the bartender after his friend gave a nod.

And holy. **Fuck**.

Good God, the new bartender was so hot. Like, incredibly so. He was right up Hunapo’s street, with the stubble and toned, hairy arms, oh and that cheeky grin too. The mystery man was tall, with messy, combed-back hair and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken several times before and heavy set eyebrows and gorgeous green-grey eyes and reddish-brown skin and a whole bunch of those leather man bracelets that meant he was either a surfer or a hipster. Given that this was a coastal Australian city, Hunapo was willing to bet it was the former. He just hoped this guy could ride dick like he rode a surfboard.

His worn orange shirt was clean but frayed in places, buttons left undone, turning his shirt into a sultry v-neck showing off his hairy, hardened pecs. It was glorious, the sight of it, like he was a beautiful, high-class bogan prostitute.

“I see you’re eyeing up the new eye candy,” commented Tino, carrying a tray ladened with ten shots of vodka and a pint of beer with ease. He was drooling slightly, presumably at the thought of candy, the fat bastard. 

“Holy _fuck_ though,” Hunapo hissed to save anyone within earshot of his regular voice the pain of having to hear him, “I’d jack off his dad just to see where he came from.”

“I knew I could count on you to say something disgusting before I did,” Tino laughed, “thanks. Well if you’re so enamoured, you can go up to collect every round.”

“I might just do that. So how’s the husband?” A/n: gay marriage is legal in Australia in my au sUCK IT.

“Gay,” replied Tino, “very gay.”

“Same. Kids still acting fucking stupid?”

Tino groaned. “I love them but I don’t like them. Well, Peter’s a sweetie but Lars is an absolute hellspawn.”

“What’s new?” inquired Hunapo sarcastically.

“Well,” sighed Tino, “he just sits in his room watching anime with his Makoto Touchmybanana body pillow and his room is filled with ramen packets. He doesn't clean anything and only leaves to prank another member of the family. Also, he punched Berwald.”

“And he gets away with it?” Hunapo raised an eyebrow.

“Not if I can help it,” Tino replied darkly, “Berwald’s so soft with him though. Child needs a kick up the arse.”

Hunapo scoffed. “Don’t we all?”

Thankfully, Tino was spared having to comment on that particular horror by Alin’s arrival.

Alin Radacanu was, as usual, dressed like he was deliberately trying to convey how edgy and eccentric he was, with a blood red waistcoat and flared black trousers and a frilly white shit that might’ve belonged to a pirate at some point, had it not actually come straight from a fancy dress shop. Under his flairs were probably a pair of studded boots he’d not thrown out since his goth phase subsided slightly. A black coat with fake fur trim completed a look Alin himself liked to call: _would suck to get sucked_. By a vampire, of course.

Today he appeared to have added a pair of feather earrings to his trashy getup. Oh and that stupid tiny hat that served no function except to highlight that Alin Radacanu wasn’t like other people. He was ~different~. He was an unbearable prick and if he hadn’t have been one of Hunapo’s best friends he’d have stopped talking to the guy ages ago.

Alin did keep things interesting though. For example, everyone in the pub now looked thoroughly uncomfortable at his inability to confirm and if someone were to try and start a fight, it would give Tino and Hunapo a chance to get into a punch up, which was quite fun when done in moderation. 

“How fare thee, my brothers in arms?” he greeted as he sat down next to Tino, stealing a shot of vodka for himself.

“Oh you know,” replied Hunapo, “just celebrating being a successful author.”

“Same here,” Alin gave a wink and stole yet another shot glass. Tino slapped his hands, but it was too late and the shot of vodka was already vored. 

“Want me to go get a bottle for you to share?” offered Hunapo, “if it’ll stop you arguing for two seconds.”

“Well I don’t like sharing alcohol,” mused Tino, “but if it’ll mean you getting to talk to the hot bartender, then fine.” He gave a wink ;P.

“Hot bartender?” Alin craned his neck before wrinkling his nose in disgust, “oh, just some gorilla.”

“Excuse you, he’s hot!” Given that he was Australian, he probably was as smart as a gorilla, but that didn’t deter him just yet.

“Yeah because he looks like one of those furry fucks you write about,” Alin stuck out his tongue, “we all know the best kinds of men are smooth, hairless Adonises. Like, muscular statues and stuff.”

“All smooth and streamlined?” Hunapo raised an eyebrow as Alin nodded. “You’re thinking of a dolphin, bro.”

“And you’re thinking of fucking the bartender,” Tino interjected.

Hunapo just shrugged with a shamelessly smug expression, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

“You’ve not listened to your heart in years!” cried Tino, “you only listen to your dick! You only _lust_!”

“Guilty as charged.” And with that, Hunapo got up and sauntered over to the bar. The handsome stranger was standing idle, as several people had taken the opportunity to either go home early or turn their night into a pub crawl - anything to get away from Alin and his weirdness. The families with small children, too, were leaving.

“Hey, hot stuff,” he called, “can we get a pint of Steinlager and a bottle of Finlandia?” Finnish vodka. That’ll teach Alin to kinkshame him. He still had half a pint of his own beer left, in all honesty, but he was pretty keen to talk to this hottie as soon as possible.

The bartender - whose nametag read ‘Logan’ - glanced over and grinned a toothy grin, eyeing him up and down. Not he was closer, Hunapo realised he seemed to have some form of heterochromia: one eye was a dull grey-green whilst the other was a dazzling electric green, like neon acid. He hoped it was the only thing hetero about the guy. “Hey sugar,” he drawled with a grin, “fucking hell I’d call Heaven and tell ‘em an angel was missing, but I’m kinda hoping you’re a slut instead.”

This man was an absolutely disgusting human being, now currently undressing him with his mismatching eyes. Hunapo was in love.

“You think you’re gonna find that out, dickhead?” he replied, smirking.

Logan leaned in front of him, elbows on the bar as he grinned so hard his eyes crinkled. “Hey come on babe, I may be an arsehole - I’ll admit that - but is that gonna stop me from getting in yours?”

“We’ll see,” Hunapo winked, “it’d be nice if you got our drinks though.”

“Oh, right.” And he was off, after asking Hunapo to remind him just what had been ordered. When he returned with the pint and bottle, he licked his lips and took Hunapo’s hand before he could move away. Tiny seemed to still for the two of them, the bar melting away until there was only Logan and his dazzling orbs. “I hope you’re constipated, boy, because I’d love to fuck the shit outta you.”

Hunapo just stared at him. “Really? All this time you had to think, and this is what you come out with?”

Logan shrugged. “I’m not a suave guy, but I know I can give you a good time.”

“I’m sure you can.” Hunapo looked him up and down with a sly smile, just to let him know he was still interested. “My name’s Hunapo, by the way.”

Logan’s smile brightened. “Good, now I know what to scream.”

“We’ll see.” And with that, he wheeled round and swaggered back to his table.

… 

After that, Hunapo decided to slow down on his beer intake, just in case he did get lucky and, well, he’d like to remember it. Whenever he went back to the bar, Logan was ready with another borderline disgusting pickup line, Hunapo’s personal favourite so far being: if I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put my dick in your arse. He hoped Logan would too. He was willing to put up with the guy's pottymouth, if it meant getting his first bonk in weeks.

And here he was again, about to supply his friends with yet more spirits in the hopes of talking to his Prince Bogan. “So what have you got for me this time?” he asked.

Logan scratched his chin. “Listen, I may not have gotten your virginity, but may I at least have the box it came it?”

Hunapo burst out laughing. “A tempting offer, I’m sure.”

“Christ on a bike are you still sexually harassing the customers?” groaned the other bartender, the one Hunapo was more familiar with, Gunnar Axel the Dane. He was a good guy, real friendly and always willing to take other people under his wing for various reasons, not least the new bartenders. Hunapo also knew that if Logan was genuinely harassing him, the fucker would already have been fired. But since they were just as bad as each other, Gunner seemed to be letting it slide, seeing as Logan was still keeping on top of his job.

“I’m not,” whined Logan, refusing to take his eyes off of Hunapo, “well, just the one. Come on mate, don’t be selfish.” He took Hunapo’s hand, bringing it to his mouth and brushing his teeth against his knuckles.

“Selfish?” Hunapo raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Gunner, meanwhile, mimed throwing up.

“You’re gonna have that body your whole life,” he murmured so sagely it could flavour a pork chop, “I only want it for one night. Or a weekend, if things go well.” 

“Well I wouldn’t want to deprive you of that privilege,” Hunapo replied, amused.

Logan seemed to brighten at his reaction. “You have such a great smile. It’s… it’s almost as big, lovely and warm as my cock.”

“Don’t you mean your eyebrows?”

“Hey! These beasts are for ‘browsin’’ your fine arse.”

“Your body hair seems to like what it sees,” Hunapo replied, “if those erections in your hair are anything to go by.” By now, everyone else at the bar had long given them a wide berth.

Logan just winked. If the reader - and by extension Logan - was wittier he might’ve said something here too but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“So what time do you get off?” asked Hunapo. 

“Around midnight,” replied Logan, “well, that’s when my shift ends but I might stick around a little longer if needed.” He eyed Gunner apprehensively. “You’re fucking smoking mate but I ain’t gonna leave bossman hanging.”

“Nah I get what you mean,” he, for one, appreciated a guy with a shred of responsibility, something he’d feared Logan lacked entirely, “besides, I gotta keep those two idiots in check.” He jerked a thumb at Tino and Alin, who were having a deep, heated conversation over something he didn’t particularly care to know the contents of. It was probably something ~weird~ though.

“We could both so with some winding down then,” commented Logan. 

“My place or yours?”

“Well my place is upstairs until I find somewhere more permanent,” Logan told him, “and the walls are stupid thin. You look like a loud moaner.”

“My place isn’t too far,” Hunapo gave a wink, “and I’d love to see your clothes on my floor.”

… 

When Logan did finally join them, at around half past midnight, he was misfortunate enough to catch the tail end of a tirade of terrible dad jokes coming from a now wasted Tino. He stood behind Hunapo’s chair, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his neck.

“I don’t understand why they’re called cured meats,” he was warbling, swaying slightly, “what were they cured of and why would I want sick meats in me?”

Hunapo glanced up to see Logan biting his lip, presumably to stop himself from making a crude joke. Unfortunately, Alin was ready and waiting to supply his own terrible contribution to the conversation.

“Now that you mention it,” he said in a way that left Hunapo bracing himself for something he would not - and never would - consent to hearing, probably something he’d be left thinking about for days, “I actually use lunch meats for masturbating sometimes.” Yup. Hunapo did not need to hear that ever.

“To be honest, so do I.” Okay, it was a good thing Logan was hot because what the actual FUCK? Hunapo had spent a lot of his time as a single man but never. _Ever_. Had he considered fucking _food_.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Alin continued on. Tino, for some Godunknown reason, actually looked interested in the direction this conversation was going. If anyone’s future books contained cured meat jerkoff sessions, Hunapo was cutting these two out of his life once and for all. “I like putting them in the microwave for like thirty seconds first just to get it all nice and warm.” Alin actually looked proud of himself as he said that too.

“Apparently what the meats have been cured of is gonorrhea and chlamydia,” Hunapo told Tino, who promptly burst out laughing.

“I don’t have an STD!” cried Alin.

“Is the burning sensation from leaving it in the microwave for too long then?” asked Hunapo.

“Fuck you, Davies! I hope your sasquatch fucktoy gives you syphilis.”

Logan snorted out a laugh at that, and Hunapo just shook his head and got up. “On that note...”

He dragged Logan outside before they could listen to anything else Alin had to say, the cool but still relatively warm night hair a welcome relief from the stuffy pub. It was relatively deserted, new moon surrendering the sky to a blanket of stars, shimmering like tiny diamonds because I couldn’t think of a better simile. Logan took Hunapo’s hand, leaning down to kiss his neck.

“Does your mate really have an STD?” he asked, “not that I’m interested.”

“He used to,” Hunapo admitted, “back in college. Except he didn’t actually tell Tino when they became friends with benefits so he got it too. I had to drive them both to the clinic separately because neither were talking to each other at the time.” He smiled at the memory. “Alin was a bit of a ho in college. Now, it seems, he just comes up with creative ways to beat his me- oh not a good choice of words.” Hunapo was becoming vegetarian, he swore it!

“I know it doesn’t matter because I’m loaded with frangers,” began Logan, “but you don’t have one too, do ya?”

“Nah, I’m clean, bro,” and with that, Hunapo leaned up to kiss his jaw, “now let’s get you home and root already.”

… 

Logan was kissing the back of his neck as he fumbled with the keys to his apartment, slipping his large hands up Hunapo’s t shirt to fondle and squeeze before moving down under his jeans to lightly pull at his boxers. When the door fell open, he turned as he stumbled in, Logan kicking the door closed behind him.

His shirt was off almost immediately, thongs following and he bent down to meet Hunapo’s lips. It was rough and deep, just the way Hunapo liked and something he’d made sure to mention on their way home. In return, Hunapo wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders, clawing at his back.

The response was a deep groan from the back of Logan’s throat. He grabbed Hunapo’s arse and he jumped up to wrap his legs around Logan’s waist. Logan, meanwhile, was trailing kisses down his jaw down to his throat. He ran his teeth over Hunapo’s Adam’s apple before sinking into his collar bone. Hunapo rasped out a moan as the other got to work, skipping over lovebites to leave real bite marks across his shoulders.

The pair tumbled onto Hunapo’s bed, one that actually folded into the wall. Thankfully, though, he’d decided to leave it down for the day in case he came home steaming and barely able to stand. Whilst the intention back then had been to go to sleep more or less right away, it was certainly more useful now for activities that couldn’t be further from sleeping.

“You’re so tiny,” Logan commented, “a skinny little slip.” For emphasis, he ran his hand over Hunapo’s stomach, pulling his shirt up and over his head.

“I’m not skinny, I’m ribbed for your pleasure,” he gave a pout.

Logan paused. “Please never say that again.”

“Ugh, fine,” Hunapo clawed at his hairy casanova’s back, making sure to leave marks that’d surely remain for a good few days. Logan responded with a renewed assault on his skin, digging his nails and teeth wherever he thought would be hot. Most of the time, he was pretty spot on. 

“I want you,” Hunapo whined, “fuck me, Logan.” His chest heaved as Logan planted kisses down his stomach. “Don’t stop!”

“Fuck, dirty talk too?” Logan’s mismatched eyes gleamed at that, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Not really, but I want to know what you can do, big boy,” Hunapo purred, stroking his face. He was an author; of _course_ he knew how to talk dirty. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you.”

“I’ll do more than that,” murmured Logan, “you’re mine tonight. I’m making you all mine.” Well, Hunapo had no objections to that. Logan leaned back to unzip Hunapo’s jeans, pulling them off in a flurry of fingers and teeth. He placed a teasing kiss on the bulge in Hunapo’s boxers before moving down to nip at his thighs. He licked and nibbled as Hunapo lay back in his pillow with a sigh.

When Logan kissed his bulge again, Hunapo’s head snapped up as he gave a huff.

“Stop being a fucking _tease_!”

“Make me.”

Those two words, coupled with Logan’s smug, hungry grin sent a shiver down him that pooled in the base of his cock. He sat up and grabbed a fistful of the bastard’s hair, pulling him close enough to feel his breath on his lips. 

“Fuck me like you mean it,” Hunapo hissed, “I have no intention of being able to walk tomorrow.”

And those were the words that left Logan fumbling to remove his own shorts, throwing the things onto the floor before bending down to rip off Hunapo’s boxers. He took Hunapo’s throbbing fuck wand in his mouth, slurping hungrily before pulling away with a wink.

“You taste good,” he commented, “but you won’t be getting more of that unless you scream my name.”

“Well it’s up to you to make sure I do that.” Hunapo panted heavily as Logan pulled down his own boxers and unfurled his erect baby arm, so big and- hold on one fucking minute.

“What the hell is that?” he hissed. 

“Logan Jr,” said Logan, confused.

“No, that. That fucking _lump_ thing;” if this was a poorly written omegaverse fanfiction, Hunapo would’ve called the bulge in Logan’s hog a _knot_. That’s what it looked like, anyway. But that just wasn’t possible so he went with the only explanation he could throw together. “Is that some sort of STD?” Like, all of them at once bunched up into a bundle in his chode.

“No,” sniffed Logan, offended. It reminded Hunapo of a nose that had been broken and healed funny. Maybe Logan had broken his bishop in the past somehow.

“Well, okay then-”

“Fuck you anyway, I’m off,” with a huff, he got up, pulling his shirt off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder, as if that was all he needed to do before leaving.

“No wait,” Hunapo hated how needy his voice sounded, and how cold and exposed he suddenly felt, “I don’t mind it, really. Please-”

“I bet you don’t,” Logan picked up a copy of _Alpha Outcast Desire_ off of the bedside table with a smirk.

“Shut the fuck up,” whined Hunapo with a blush.

“Hey babe don’t worry,” Logan sank back down onto the bed, climbing on top of Hunapo and pinning him down, “I’m not leaving until you’re crying with pleasure.” He whispered it against Hunapo’s neck, holding his wrists above his head as he dragged his teeth across his shoulder. 

“Where’s the lube?” he asked, which wasn’t as hot but still very important.

“Bedside drawer,” panted Hunapo. 

Without actually getting off him, Logan reached over to fumble in Hunapo’s drawer for a tiny bottle, applying lube generously to his fingers. He set to work preparing Hunapo with one hand, pumping his mayo shooting hotdog gun with the other.

“Hurry up,” Hunapo whined, “I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”

“Dirty slut.” But Logan complied, not caring if he was too rough and Hunapo loved it. He didn’t start off slow, going full force like a dog in heat and Hunapo clawed his back, biting his lip to stop himself moaning just yet. He could feel that knot - yeah, let’s call it a knot - inside his arsehole like a massive, stubborn shit. It felt so good though. 

“Make me your bitch,” Hunapo cried, throwing his head back and yanking Logan’s hair, “do me like you own me.”

So Logan did. He went hard and deep, one hand squeezing Hunapo’s arse, lifting it to get a better angle, and the other on the wall. In between making Hunapo’s neck look like a jam sandwich, his lips were kissing Hunapo's own roughly, bruising them, claiming them.

When Logan moved his hand from the wall to Hunapo’s winkle, the pleasure threw him over the edge and he gave in, crying Logan’s name shamelessly until the two of them came. Hunapo’s legs trembled as electric waves of bliss coursed through his body. For ages, he couldn’t speak words, only babble and whine as Logan pulled out and collapsed next to him.

“That was the best,” he murmured, tired eyes still wide and shining. Hunapo could only nod in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to put ’yaoi marriage’ instead of ‘gay marriage’ in that author’s note but then I’d never feel clean again. Some things are just going too far, y’know?
> 
> In case it wasn’t screamingly obvious, I’ve never seen a penis in real life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry this is so late! I'm a dumb stupid fuck. Also this is the worse thing I've written and that include shlav by the way.  
> Fun fact: Hunapo’s flat is based on the one I used to live in when I was 6. Because I have one image of a studio apartment. To be honest, I’ve based flats in other fics on the same one too, including Hunapo’s flat in Just Kids.
> 
> Also, despite the name, this fic doesn’t actually contain vore, thought I’d clear that up.
> 
> …
> 
> Meimei - Taiwan

 

When Logan awoke the next day, he was sore, spent and sated. His back felt like it had been savaged by a raccoon, and probably looked like it too - his hair, on the other hand, was splayed across a clean pillow, a few locks ducking down to poke him in the eye. It was a perfect late Saturday morning though, him waking up with no obligations to get dressed or go outside, clean(ish) bedsheets against his skin and his arm wrapped around another man’s form. Everything around him was so soft and peaceful he could just go right back to sleep, even with this other man’s thick, curly hair in his face.

What was the guy’s name anyway?

Logan settled into a state of mild panic as he realised he’d been inside someone and forgotten their name.

 _Again_.

Logan didn’t think of himself as a man of many morals, but at the very least he didn’t like to stretch someone’s chocolate starfish without knowing their name. There were just too few true gentlemen such as himself left in the world: holding out doors; kindly lighting his other half’s farts; not forgetting the names of his one-night stands. Simple, yet effective, little gestures.

And yet, here he was, stealthily prizing himself from his sleeping lover’s grip and sneaking downstairs to check to see if they’d had any post delivered. Something with their name. Anything would do, really. Well, not ‘the occupier’, that was a mistake Logan wasn’t making again.

He pulled on his shorts, but bothered with nothing else before leaving, using one of Thingy’s boots as a doorstop. It was a lovely day anyway, sunlight filtering through the windows either side of the door. Yes, just as hoped! A new pile of post! He’d come out of flat 4 so… ah yes! No, not ‘the occupier’… Hunapo Davies! That definitely rang a bell. Now, what had he nicknamed Mr Davies?

“Oh hi!”

He wheeled round to find a young woman smiling over at him, standing on the stairs in pink pyjamas.

“Hello there,” he greeted with a grin. She seemed cute! Maybe she could be next? Or maybe she was interested in a threesome?

“Oh, I’m Meimei, I live here,” said the girl. She walked forward, past him to scoop up her own post.

“Logan, but you, err, probably already heard that.” He winked, and she looked completely unimpressed.

“It’s nice to meet you… Logan,” she said in a way that implied she hoped he and Hunapo would have a messy breakup and he’d be told to get fucked. Logan, however, failed to pick up on it, much unlike that time he failed to pick up chlamydia.

“So… you know Huna?” He’d probably gone with ‘Huna’ for a nickname; he was a simple man.

 “Yes,” she said through strained teeth, “he lives next door. We’re… we’re friends.” She seemed to be reconsidering that, though.

“Cool, so are we, I guess. Special friends.” And with one last disgusting wink, he bounced back upstairs.

Huna was awake by the time he kicked the boot out of the way and closed the door. He glanced up, seemingly forcing a smile and wiping at his eyes.

“Oh, you’re- you… yeah.”

Logan understood. “Hey, I’m not the kind of guy to nut and bolt!” Well, only if the person in question was really shit in bed, and like they smelt bad and stuff. His standards were shamefully low though, so it was rare. “I would definitely like to go again, if that’s good with you.” He set the post on Huna’s bedside table, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that’d be really great.”

“I’ll make you some breakfast first, though. You look like you shouldn't be getting up for a while,” Logan gave him a quick kiss, and set to work making a gourmet bowl of cereal for each of them, milk in first. Hunapo was a lucky man! He couldn’t find a tray, though, and his one spoon was in the washing bowl with his one plate, so Logan had to use a pair of little teaspoons instead. He carried the bowls back to the bed and handed Huna one. They ate in slightly awkward silence.

“So, a single guy then?”

Hunapo’s eyebrows shot up, “yup. What gave it away?”

“The dildo in the sink, with your one plate.”

“Yeah I should’ve cleaned up a bit, sorry. Wasn’t expecting to pull.”

“It’s cool. I get life is hard for blokes who aren’t built like a brick shit house with the face of a Greek God.”

“Hephaestus.”

“Bless ya.”

Hunapo groaned.

“So you wanna gimme a wristie or what?”

“Fuck off,” said Hunapo, wrinkling his nose, “get under me.”

Logan grinned, and grabbed Huna’s hips, pulling him on top; “let’s see if you still have an attitude on ya when I’m done with you.”

“Jokes on you; I’m always a bitch.”

Logan just smiled, taking a hold of Huna’s wrist and kissing it gently. The almost innocent affection threw him, even more so when Logan yanked him forward and kissed him sloppily, hungrily. He could taste the chocolate of the cereal and a bit of morning breath on Logan’s tongue, and smell his weird sweaty body up close.

Logan grabbed Huna’s arse, fondling and squeezing like it wasn’t an absolute pancake. Huna appreciated the gesture in more ways than one.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered so huskily it could pull a sleigh. “I could just eat you.”

“In- In what way?”

Logan just winked. Hunapo felt an ever-so-slight stab of dread at that.

Logan moved down to kiss Hunapo’s chest as his semi-chub custard launcher rubbed against his taint and balls. He groaned at the touch of Logan’s lips on his twink nips. His legs still ached from last night, an ache he could feel as he straddled Logan, one hand on the headboard to steady himself. Logan pulled his own hands away for just a sec to wiggle out of his shorts, his mayo shooting hotdog gun finally free to poke at Hunapo’s wanting taint even more so than before.

“It looks like someone is ready for my meter long king kong dong already,” he winked.

“Logan,” Hunapo stopped his moaning and whining, looking at his fuckbuddy like he’d just shit the bed, “I’m willing to admit you’re pretty fucking gifted down there, but calling it a metre long is a little too generous, don’t you think? I’m probably a metre from Luigi to mouth.”

“You called your dick Luigi, I don’t want to hear your opinions on Logan jr! Or anything for that matter!”

Hunapo ground their hips like pepper, rubbing against the knotted Jamaican bacon, “oh really?”

Logan whined.

“Hmm? What was that?”

He gave a sob.

“Thought so.”

Logan scrambled for the lube, grabbing the bottle where it had been abandoned on the floor and got to work preparing Huna again, because it’s 1:30 am and the author’s kinda tired and you know this shit takes ages because he has the attention span of a gnat I’m sorry it’s been so long since the last update you have my permission to send anon hate over it.

ANYWAY, Huna’s butt is nice and prepared now and moister than a kiss on the lips from grandma and he was moaning like feck so Logan slid in his red rocket lipstick-lookin steamin’ semen truck and it made a hentai noise.

“Oh God,” Hunapo moaned, “it’s so big, and hot, and juicy-“

“You don’t have to talk,” Logan pointed out, grabbing his hips, “now hold on. Shit’s gonna get rough.”

And rough it got. Logan moved like a dying fish flopping about trying to find water, but with the power of a rodeo bull. A mer-bull, if you will. Hunapo yelped at the power, but rode the dick like a pro, moaning and whimpering like an anime girl getting pounded. In the butt. By- you get the picture.

“Oh God yes! Don’t stop! Fuck me harder!”

“I’m giving it all I got you cheeky cunt!”

“Aww, am I being naughty?” Hunapo looked like a smug anime girl too, doing that fucking :3c face and everything. “Do I need to be punished?”

Logan gulped, then his face hardened and he smacked the butt. “Y-yeah, a good spank should sort you right out.” He smacked him again.

“Unf, more please!” Meanwhile, the author was blinking ‘help me’ in Morse code. Morse chode heh.

Logan spanked him again before flipping them both over to doggy style and just fucking drilling him like an oil rig. It was like he was in heat or something, going rough and hard and Huna loved it, screaming Logan's name over and over whilst he wrapped his arms around Huna's middle. Logan held him close, jaw on his shoulder blade and grunting as he bust a fat one. Huna's legs trembled as he came a second later, Logan's hips still twitching and rocking and they were both panting. Logan pulled his hog out with another grunt and they both collapsed on the bed, breathless and sweaty and sticky.

"Amazing," Hunapo whispered, putting a hand on Logan's face. 

"Yeah..."

Neither said anything for a while. Logan wiped his bishop on Hunapo's sheets then cuddled him close. He listened to both their heartbeats as they slowed, softened, and the breath on his cheek. He buried a hand in Huna's curls, messing them up even more.

"I can stay a while," he said, "you know, if you want."

"I'd like that."


End file.
